Clever Little Children
by Usotsukeriel
Summary: The Buggers were fearsome but they were also a blessing. They had united mankind in an effort unprecedented in history. After the Buggers are gone what will happen with all the clever little children who protected the world but never learned to love it?
1. Prologue

Six years ago:

Peter Neski floated in darkness seeing the world through two pairs of eyes, neither of which were his own. The sensory deprivation chamber helped deaden the sensations from his own body even as the cold metal receiver at the base of his skull fed an overload of information directly into his nervous system from two separate monitors. Ordinarily, watchers simply watched the feeds on screens, listening to the audio on speakers as external stimuli. Even with the special chambers deadening their senses to avoid conflicting signals, it was most often impossible for most humans to accept signals from another person's body. Peter was receiving feeds from two individuals at the exact same time, seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling every single thing from two distinct bodies other than his own. It was enough to drive most men into sobbing hysterics, for Neski, it was just his job.

Neski had spent twenty years watching for the IF, spending up to three years at a time living alongside the various little geniuses and reporting to his superiors whether they might someday become the saviors humanity so desperately needed. That had been his duty to his species, and he had done it well. While none of his children had gone on to become the fleet commander destined to save the world, he had helped catch a couple of promising but fatally flawed candidates who would most certainly have doomed it. He had discovered the slight fractures of psyche, the tiny tendrils of insanity that went just beyond the acceptable limits, discovered the children who would have collapsed under the weight of command and taken the hopes of the rest of the populace with them into destruction.

He'd retired with high honors from the I.F. and had immediately returned to his true duty. He brought all his experience and training and instinct and put it to use looking for the commander his Country would need, not for the war against the buggers, but for the war that would come after, the war that had been postponed far too long. The rest of the world had looked to space and grown comfortable in peace, but they'd forgotten just how close Russia had been to fulfilling their destiny of conquest. Peter didn't mind, let them forget, Russia had not forgotten. Russia had been waiting patiently for hundreds of years, constantly working toward this moment, a mere inconvenience like an alien invasion could not destroy the Russian quest for Hegemony, it had merely delayed it, allowing the soil to become all the more fertile for the inevitable victory. The bugger war would be over soon one way or another, and it was Peter's job to make sure Russia had the most brilliant mind on earth prepared to command those legions.

That was why when he'd been approached with an impossible task, he hadn't even considered refusing. He was the only one with the experience and mental fortitude to accomplish this task. If he was driven mad in the process he considered that a small price to pay in service of the Motherland.

It had been difficult at first, listening to all the input intended for two distinct minds as well as keeping a firm hold on his own sanity, but he had been well prepared, and after the first months Peter had become accustomed to the strange situation. Now he found it almost strange when he left the facility to live without the extra sensory input.

At the moment, the primary sensation was blinding pain. Neski felt the lash as if it were cutting into his own skin. He felt and heard the shrill scream as though it had come from his own throat, resounding in his own ears. He felt the trembling of "his" legs as the lash fell twice, then three times in the same place.. He saw the brief glimpse of Korovin over the shoulder through sweat soaked hair as he raised the whip for another strike.

He also felt hot anger but that at least was his own. It was an old anger, but still strong. It was one thing to inflict punishment for the sake of the state, but Korovin enjoyed it, enjoyed whipping a helpless little girl till her back was covered with bloody wheals. He was masterful at causing maximum pain while avoiding permanent injury, but Neski knew that given a free reign Korovin would have whipped the girl to death. The test had been unfair to the point of stupidity, yet she had almost pulled it off, almost accomplished what should have been impossible, almost avoided the lash that was tracing hot fire in crisscrossing lines on her back just like so many times before.

There was nothing he could do of course, he could only share her pain. He could have simply turned off the pain, but Neski never even allowed himself to consider it. It wasn't mere sympathy or martyrdom. Neski knew it was his responsibility to determine whether this girl was brilliant enough to serve the motherland, gifted enough to make all the pain, all the stupid unfairness worthwhile. He hoped she would. He felt sorry for her, and was furious on her behalf, but he would never allow sentimentality to affect his judgment. If she wasn't good enough, he'd write one report and destroy all her hopes, all her reason for continuing to exist just as surely as if he'd killed her with his own hands. He'd hate to do it, he'd curse himself and lose sleep over it for the rest of his life, but he'd do it and not hesitate one moment.

Even as he felt the leather cut into his back yet again, he had shifted the focus of his attention to his other body. He felt a pleasant smoothness as the rich silk he wore shifted slightly down his slender shoulder. He smelled the soft, almost unnoticeable scent of lilac. He heard the beginning strains of Mozart's Lacrimosa gently swelling from the speakers, almost as if the musicians and choir were in the room themselves. They would have fit comfortably in the lavishly appointed room, and with space to spare. He could see the giant holographic display showing the same stupidly impossible simulation, and in the lower edge of his vision he could see the delicate white hands flying across the controls almost preternaturally quickly.

He watched as his other self commanded the simulation with almost identical precision and grace as the girl who was now being whipped. He watched as she came to the same moment that had proved fatal before, and saw as she moved a part of her force out in anticipation of the coming attack, anticipating something that should have been completely unforeseeable. Neski watched as his other self completed the impossible task, and despite the agonizing pain he still felt, he smiled.

They wouldn't be able to simply write this off as coincidence anymore. This was the seventh consecutive exercise where Anna had anticipated the computer's movements in this fashion, every time after Sofia had fallen prey to an unforeseeable attack. No one could doubt that the philotic connection was indeed getting stronger. Information was moving from mind to mind despite the fact that neither Anna nor Sofia even knew of the other's existence. In fact they'd never even seen each other outside the womb.

The simulation and the lashing ended at almost the same moment. Neski took a moment to relax. There wouldn't be much to do till the various layers of higher ups all finally recognized what Neski and the rest of the team had understood more than three weeks ago. The first stage was a success, the twins' philotic connection had begun to grow stronger, once they got the go ahead, they could begin the real work. For now, they had no choice but to repeat the same redundant experiments, apply the same tests, and dish out the same needless punishments and rewards.

Neski could only feel Sophia's input dimly. Korovin had left her in a dazed pain-induced stupor. Neski could feel the cold concrete on her bare skin, the pulsing sting of the air on her back, the oozing trickle of blood down her sides. Neski felt a moment of cold contempt for Korovin, but knew there was quite literally nothing he could do except watch.

So he did, shifting his focus to Anna who was watching the door open to reveal Korovin, holding a huge bouquet of flowers. Neski felt Anna run, eyes locked on Korovin's handsome, beaming face the whole way. He felt her gather herself and leap into his arms, heard her giggle saying "I did it, did you see? I beat it!"

"I saw, you were amazing!" Korovin said, genuine warmth in his voice. It never ceased to boggle Neski's mind how quickly Korovin could go from sadistic tormenter to loving older brother. Neski felt the slight stubble of his chin through Anna's cheek as she held him as tight as her little arms could hold. Korovin laughed, set the flowers in an empty vase and swung Anna in a circle so fast her dress fluttered in her wake. She squealed and Korovin settled her back on his hip. She grinned and ran her hands over Korovin's face.

Neski could feel the heartbeat racing, the cheeks flushing as she looked at Korovin, running her hands along the smooth planes of his cheeks. It was inevitable Neski knew. Korovin was an uncommonly handsome and winsome man, it was a large part of why he'd been chosen to play this role in the twins' lives. He was smart, charming, strong, and more importantly, the only man either girl had ever met. Of course they knew more about psychology and sociology than most college student, but they were so deprived of real human company that they would have bonded with most anyone, much less an attractive, charismatic older man.

Anna's hands were tousled in Korovin's hair, and her heart was beating even harder than normal. Neski realized she was working her courage up for something. She just kept her hands moving over his face as she related every part of the last simulation, interrupted only when Korovin would add an "I know!" or "That was incredible!" or other such little nothings.

Neski would normally have tuned out this little post-game analysis, but he was intrigued by her nervousness. He knew she was getting ready for some sort of revelation. Neski was duty bound to notice any significant changes in Anna's psyche, but he was also simply curious. As the conversation continued, he could feel her breathing become more shallow and rapid, hear the blood rushing in her ears. Neski fixed his attention on Korovin's face, interested in what his reaction would be to whatever news Anna was about to unveil. He wondered if Korovin would be able to disguise his amusement… Probably so, the man was a consummate actor.

The next words brought his attention back to Anna though, "And so I just waited on the path Sophia told me about and there they were! Right on time!"

Korovin's perfect facade froze as he immediately realized the import of those words, mouth open, eyes widening. Perhaps that's what she'd intended, because in that very instant, Neski felt her taut muscles fire, jamming her painted nails into Korovin's eye sockets.. He felt the resistance as the eyes first compressed then gave way, he felt the sliminess and heat as the blood welled out, soaking the hands that were still driving into Korovin's screaming face with all their strength, felt her teeth grind as she exerted all her effort to cling to Korovin's bucking torso with her legs alone, felt the physical shock and total mind-consuming agony that comes when someone is truly hit for the first time in their life.

He heard Korovin's mindless shrieks and crashing as he flailed about the room in a rage. He felt Anna gather her uncooperative body and stumble to her feet, using a chair for balance. He felt her grab the heavy decorative cross off the wall as her feet once again began to obey her commands. He felt the glancing impact as she swung the three foot wooden cross with all her strength, barely connecting with Korovin's wildly moving head. He felt Anna reverse her awkward grip on the too-large weapon, and swing it hard, directly into the side of Korovin's knee. He heard the joint give way with a sickening pop, and felt the vibrations through the floor as Korovin fell to the floor, hands desperately trying to push his ruined eyes back into his face.

Anna was breathing heavily, but it was with excitement, not exertion. She walked around to Korovin's head and swing with all her strength, breaking his nose. Then she swung at his unprotected chest. Neski could both feel and hear the ribs snap under the force of the hardwood crossbeam. He felt as Anna dropped the unwieldy cross and started kicking Korovin repeatedly, aiming at the broken ribs and the ruined face with her sharp little high heels. Korovin was sobbing and screaming for her to stop, but she kept at it, kicking him again and again, blood flying up to splatter hot and sticky across her face.

Then, as suddenly as she'd started, she stopped. She left him shrieking in agony on the floor and calmly walked over to the vase where he'd deposited the flowers. She considered them for a moment and then removed a long stemmed rose. She walked back to Korovin, again without any seeming sense of hurry. He lay writhing and moaning, one hand over his left eye, the other over his broken ribs, trying to hold his broken body together. Anna grabbed the stem of the rose in her right hand, ignoring the thorns that dug into her palm and fingers, and she drove the stem straight down into Korovin's empty right eye socket. Korovin's body began to jerk spasmodically, but Anna didn't flinch, driving the stem further into his brain, watching as the body fought wildly against death. After a moment all was still except for the scarlet puddle that slowly spread outward from the body.

Neski felt the throbbing pain in Anna's right hand suddenly become sharper as she let go of the stem and the thorns pulled away from her flesh. He felt her head tilt back as she panted like a wild beast. Then he felt her throat and tongue working silently, subvocalizing words that would be inaudible to anyone but her... anyone except him. She simply said, "I'd like to meet my sister please."

Twenty minutes later, Anna was washed and changed out of her bloody garments with a fresh bandage over the hand that had gripped the stem. Nesky, now out of his tank and not receiving any additional sensory information finally saw Anna for the first time with his own eyes. She was a slender, almost willowy thing, the perfect little dancing doll. Neski was surprised to see just how small she really was. It was one thing to live inside her body as she grew for five years, feeling her develop from a giggling toddler to an eight year old child, it was quite another to see her, to be in the same room with her. He looked at the bandaged hand, so small, but strong enough to rip the life from an athletic, young man. She met his gaze and Neski was startled to realize he had no idea what lay behind the surface. He wasn't used to seeing her this way, and he hadn't expected this emotionless mask. She'd just killed the only man she'd ever known, the man who had been father, older brother, and mentor to her since before she could truly remember. Neski looked intently at her face, but he could find no sign of remorse. She touched the back of her neck where the monitor was implanted. It was a question.

Neski only nodded, turning his head and pulling aside his hair to let her see his own implant. He couldn't help glancing at the spot. A team had already torn up the hopelessly stained carpet and were replacing it, but Neski could almost see the blood still there, still spreading, slowly, inexorably. He couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for the man. That fact disturbed him, he'd detested Korovin, certainly, but it still seemed as though he should feel something for the loss of a human life. All he could manage was relief, almost bordering on satisfaction.

"I won't apologize." Anna said calmly, as if she was discussing the carpet stains rather than the fact that she'd just committed a premeditated, brutally violent murder. "I don't care if you punish me now or fail me or anything. He hurt Sofia , he hurt her and he liked it, then he lied, everything he did with me was a lie. I don't feel bad at all, and I won't apologize, ever!"

Neski only nodded again. He wondered briefly if she blamed him as well, and whether she'd someday do away with him as she'd done with Korovin. Neski decided he couldn't blame her if she did. He brought his mind back to the present and said simply, "I'll take you to her now."

It was only a five minute walk to Sofia 's room. Neski opened the door, and stepped aside, allowing Anna to enter first. Anna walked straight over to Sofia, who was kneeling on the floor despite the agony her back must have been causing her, with an expression of patient expectation fulfilled. Neski felt the stinging pinpricks in his eyes, though he showed no outward sign of dismay. Seeing the two together was almost more than he could bear. Anna was everything Sofia should have been allowed to be. Anna's skin was smooth, unblemished porcelein, Sophia's back was a fabric of old and new wounds, her face bruised and swelling. Anna moved with the poise of all her years of dancer's training at the hands of ballet master instructors, Sofia huddled, shuffled, her only teachers being Korovin and the pain he brought with him. Anna's hair was long, flaxen, immaculately cared for. Sofia's hair was shoulder length, cut only to keep it out of the path of the whip, uneven, greasy and ragged. Anna walked over, and knelt in front of her… and promptly broke down in tears. Sofia gathered her sister in her arms and pulled her onto her tiny lap. Anna lay there, trembling and clutching at her sister's rags. Neski was struck by the scene. Like a living Pieta, except reversed, the immaculate virgin being comforted by the scarred and wounded Christ who'd suffered for her sins. Sofia's expression was beneficent, almost glowing, as she allowed her own tears to fall, unheeded, into her sister's golden hair. She simply held Anna as they both cried, and cried, and cried.


	2. Chapter 1

Nine weeks prior to the final battle of the Third Invasion:

Valentine added a branch and watched as the flames licked at the dry wood, crawling up its inner surface. She speared the last letter on a long twig and held it in the flames. The paper flared up at once, curling in on itself as it turned first brown, then carbon black to match the ink of the words scrawled across its surface. Some of the ash drifted upward with the smoke, into the branches above, dancing in the dappled sunlight. The rest of the letter fell past the tepee of logs to join the rest of its brethren in the glowing cherry coals below, coals that seemed to ripple as waves of oxygen were sucked in and used up. Valentine could picture the diagram in her mind, could label each molecule and step of the chemical reaction that was taking place before her eyes, could almost picture the excited electrons that were the reason for the flames. She'd memorized the periodic table of elements when she was five, a simple wood fire hadn't held any secrets from her since she'd turned six. Still, something about a fire held the mystery of the arcane, the magical, the alchemic transformation of one substance into another by means of supernatural arts. Valentine yawned her way through doctorate level classes, not because they were over her head, but because they seemed pointlessly repetitive to her fourteen year old mind, yet she'd never once felt bored looking at a fire. It was one of the few things that could occupy her thoughts completely without ever seeming dull.

It had taken almost a week for the paper and pens she'd ordered to arrive. She'd had to order them from a group of Mennonites who still clung to the old ways of doing things. Writing on paper had been a strange experience indeed. The resistance had made her fingers feel clumsy, so used she was to the frictionless writing of stylus on desk screen. It had made her consider simply burning the desk instead with all the letters in the memory, but she'd persisted, copying out each phrase, each word, first in scrawls, then in something resembling her normal flowing script as she got used to the physical process. Every letter she'd ever written to ender from the first day he'd gone to battle school. Every letter they'd never allowed him to read. Every one, she copied faithfully and accurately, remembering, as she wrote, the events she had been relating, had wanted to share with her brother, everything she'd wished he'd been able to see. It had taken months, more than nine all told, to commit every word to paper, to seal them up in envelopes with Ender's name on the front. It had only taken a few hours to burn every single one.

She watched the smoke rise through the canopy of leaves and into the cloudy sky above. She thought of ancient cultures burning sacrifices to buy the favor of various capricious deities throughout history. She found herself hoping that if there was any true magic in fire at all, that it would carry her love to her little brother, to Ender, wherever he was now, however much he'd changed. She stared back, looking into the translucent embers, seeing visions there, dancing too fast for her mind to analyze. She wondered if he'd ever forgive her, for sending him back to war, for convincing him to go back into bondage for the sake of a humanity that had never been anything but demanding and cruel to him. For allowing herself to become a tool in the hand of the enemy, a tool of both his enemies.

Valentine heard the footsteps she'd been expecting, softly approaching behind her. She breathed deeply and smelled the smoke, a tangy, sharp, clean scent. The soft tread moved closer, coming along the little, worn animal trail she'd used hours before. She listened without turning as the footsteps entered her little clearing and stopped twenty feet behind her back.

"We've been so busy I'd lost track of the date." Said Ender's enemy. "It wasn't till I noticed you gone that I remembered. How old is he now, eleven?"

Valentine nodded slightly, not rising from her crouch as she continued to watch the flames.

Peter came up beside her and flopped on the grass, facing the fire while propped on and elbow. He looked from the flames to her face, then back again and said, "I wonder how many spiders and insects were in those logs when you set them on fire."

Valentine sighed slightly, not shifting her attention, not interrupting whatever malicious thing Peter was about to say.

"Must have been pretty ghastly for them, their whole home, whole world going up in flames around them, seeing the fire block each escape in turn, hiding in their tunnels as the heat either cooked them alive so their carapaces burst as their blood flashed into steam or the flames sucked the oxygen right out of their little bug lungs." He looked at her and smiled, "And you don't feel a thing." He looked back at the flames, smiling. "Cruelty to animals is one of the marks of a deranged mind Val, you really should try to control those nasty impulses of yours. People might think you're crazy or something."

Valentine blinked sleepily, her eyes still facing the fire. She knew she gave no outward sign of distress, but the magic had been broken just the same. She couldn't rid herself of Peter's gruesome mental image. It bothered her that she couldn't just let the words roll away, frustrated that her mind couldn't find a simple way around Peter's logic. She knew that starting a controlled fire was completely different from intentionally crucifying squirrels on the ground with wooden pegs and dissecting them while they were still alive, still desperately fighting to escape their doom. She knew there was a fundamental difference, but her mind couldn't find the nice logical boundary that would allow her to simply ignore Peter's allegations. She couldn't, because just like every time before, he'd found her deepest fear, that she was just like him, that she was just like Peter, and only thought she was different, only thought she was kind and decent and human...

The thought took less than a second to come and go from her mind, and she spoke without any hint of her mental turmoil showing in either face or voice, "Congratulations big brother." She'd known he would be showing up sometime today to glory in his latest accomplishment. Locke had been requested to lend his name and influence to the renewal of the International Cooperation Act. The request had been made publicly in a full recorded session of the council by the Hegemon himself and was a confirmation that they recognized Locke's leading role as the face of the moderate intelligentsia throughout the world. It was the first time Peter's Locke had been publicly chosen over Valentine's Demosthenes, the day that the world recognized an anonymous writer on the nets as a leader of the movement for peace and cooperation. Peter couldn't have been more self satisfied if he were a cat.

Peter shrugged off her congratulations, knowing full well his facade of nonchalance didn't fool her in the slightest, but doing it anyway simply for form's sake. Petra knew that in the coming week's he'd be picking her brain endlessly as they worked together to adjust the course of nations to their will, but for today at least he seemed content to simply revel in what they'd accomplished so far.

"We'll need to start exploring for habitable systems right away."

Or perhaps not. Valentine wearily focused her attention on Peter's chosen topic. She fell into her comfortable role and offered up the obvious objection she knew he was waiting for. "And how do you plan to do this when the I.F. is requisitioning all international resources that could possibly be used to build ships as they continue to build the defense fleet?"

Peter grinned and Valentine knew he'd been hoping she'd use that exact phrasing. "Why there is no defense fleet little sister." he said, the smile spreading even wider as he took in her reaction.

Valentine had been expecting a surprise, but Peter's words nearly took her breath away. If anyone else had said something like that she would have thought it was pitiful attempt at a joke or that they had been reading her own Demosthenes columns a bit too literally, but with Peter she knew better. Peter was watching with glee as Valentine was unable to keep the totality of the shock and horror she was feeling from showing on her face. He laughed and said "Oh Val, don't fret so, it's unseemly."

"You've found something?" Val said, somehow keeping the excitement out of her voice, cursing herself for her momentary lapse.

"Well, technically it found me, Locke that is, of course. I now have a new friend on the council, and he's been most informative. He's positive that he can use me to secure his seat in the next election, and he's been letting all sorts of interesting fruit fall in my path. I haven't even had to ask him for it, he's just giving it away without securing any kind of promise of help from me, the idiotic, incompetent, wonderful fool!" Peter barked out the last word in a triumphant shout that startled a pair of nearby doves who flew away, crying their soft, high cry with each downbeat of their wings.

"And he just told you there was no fleet?"

"Of course there's a fleet Val, we see pictures of it every day from the space telescopes, it's just that there's not a defense fleet. We don't have a single completed warship within twenty light years of our solar system." Peter laughed.

Valentine had recovered herself. Peter was many things, but above all he was self interested. He wouldn't be this gleeful if he thought he was in danger of an imminent attack. With that, and what he'd just told her, it took Valentine only a second to figure it out and say, "There is no third invasion, we're going to them, and we're don't think they'll be coming back, at least not in the next few decades." She said the words numbly, cold logic reigning as the rest of her mind reeled, restructuring her worldview, piecing together the vast jigsaw of implications this news gave her. She could see why Peter was punch drunk, this was news indeed. She looked at Peter's grinning face and said, "He just told you?"

"Oh no, he doesn't have a clue about the fleet, he still thinks they're gathered in the comet shield, ready to rise up and do battle! Still, he knew more than he understood, and I was able to put two and two together. I looked around, and the I.F. hasn't been building warships for decades. They're constructing colony ships. Giant self-sustaining transports to carry tens of thousands of people across the stars to entirely new worlds. That's the fleet that shows up on the scopes. They just hide in the center of the Ecstatic Shield, and we think they're warships. Still, he started me along the bread crumb trail. He told me about the Ansible. Fascinating device really, it makes communication and information transfer instantaneous regardless of distance. He also told me a few more things regarding the advances in gravity manipulation and the new weapons they were putting on the ships, interesting stuff let me tell you. With that and some other things he let drop I was able to figure out that the I.F. built and sent the last warship before either of us were born little sister. Most of them in fact were sent before Mom or Dad were born. Still, those colony ships are more than just decoys. They're planning for the possibility that we might lose the war, but they're afraid. They know that if they just come out and tell us what they've been doing the populace will go nuts, tear itself apart and the I.F. with it. The I.F. knows that if we lose this war the Buggers will be coming after us with everything they've got, and we have nothing left to fight them, but if they tell the world that they've been lying to stay in power for the past few decades it'll only backfire and cause chaos, dooming us all. It's a nice little Catch 22 they've backed themselves into."

"And Locke will become the beacon to light the way." Valentine was still reeling from the overload of information, but she could see what Peter was driving at.

He smiled and said "You've already started laying the foundation little sister, with your article about repealing the population limitation laws and sending the Thirds and Fourths and Fifths to the stars. This will become the issue that brings Locke and Demosthenes together, using Demosthenes' sway over the populace to endorse Locke's proposal. They'll overcome their differences and Demosthenes will insist that Locke reveal himself to lead Humanity to the stars. They'll call for the I.F. to stop constructing warships and build the ships that will spread Humanity too far to ever fear extinction again. The I.F. will grab at their chance, helping Locke gain the Hegemony where he'll construct starships at an unprecedented rate and phenomenally low cost. I'll have the Hegemony within three years, four at the most, and we'll begin our exodus of the planet. By the time Ender's old enough to assume control of the fleet and the war, which he'll be conducting via remote because of the ansible, we'll have scouting ships on the way to every nearby system with planets. If Ender loses and the Bugger's send a real third invasion, we'll have already spread to dozens of worlds by the time they arrive."

"And you'll be the undisputed Ruler of mankind, with the power of the I.F. At your beck and call."

"It's hilarious! While Ender, the golden boy, the perfect Third, the chosen one is off trying to systematically exterminate an entire race of sentient beings, much like your little bonfire as it happens, I'll be making the entire exercise unnecessary. They rejected me because I was too twisted to lead a fleet of killers, yet I'll be the one who ends up saving mankind from destroying itself!" He locked gazes with Valentine then, eyes fever bright with excitement and anticipation and said "They've made Ender a killer, but I'm turning my worst predilections to work for the sake of the entire human race. I'm going to become a savior, and it's going to be all your fault Val."

And then he laughed. He laughed with genuine, unfeigned, undisguised mirth, and as he laughed, the fire died.

Meanwhile, back at the Halls of Justice... I mean, up at the Command School on Eros... yeah... that's what I meant... anyway:

"Petra?… Petra! Are you alright?"

The words seemed strange, the voice was out of place, not the one she had expected. Petra tried to remember who she'd been talking to, but couldn't. All she knew was that the voice was wrong.

"Petra! Oh God, please be alright, Petra please wake up, please. Open your eyes Petra, look at me. Please God, please. Wake up Petra…" Whoever was talking to her had grabbed her and was shaking her forcefully. No, this voice definitely didn't belong to the person she'd just been talking to. Who had that been anyway? Mother? No, mother was gone, she hadn't seen mother since she was six. Who was it then?

...The memory was gone, Petra knew she had to deal with the present. So who was this now? It was on the tip of her tongue, she knew that voice. Why were they so worried?

She was so tired, but the hands wouldn't stop shaking her, and they were gripping her arms uncomfortably. Didn't they know she needed to sleep? She forced her eyes apart slightly, it felt like she was trying to lift weighted shutters, they were almost impossible to keep open. It began to make her angry that her body wouldn't obey her. She forced the offending eyelids up, but now her eyes refused to focus. Close in front of her she could just barely make out a face.

"Dink?" Petra said before she even realized she'd recognized him. She had to think about things three or four times before she could really understand them. Dink looked worried, but he smiled when he saw her eyes open. He had a nice smile…

"Thank God Petra, you had me worried…" Dink started. He probably said more but Petra couldn't hear him, or in any case she couldn't understand him if she did hear him. She was trying to figure out where she was. She was in a chair, too upright to be comfortable. She moved her hand clumsily. It touched something, a smooth spherical something that rolled in place as her hand bumped across it… She knew what that was, she searched for the memory that would identify that ball. The stray thought swam under the surface of her brain like a fish in murky water. It was… it was…

Petra bolted up as realization struck her like a slap. She couldn't breathe with the force of it. She'd finally gotten her brain fully functional, but now she wished it would stop altogether. She was in the simulator, in the command chair, she had been positioning her fighters, baiting the bugger ships, drawing their attention away from Bean's strike force, forcing them to maintain their position while the other commanders maneuvered… When had she fallen asleep? Her fingers flew to their positions on the controls, the controls she'd used so often in the past months that they felt like a natural extension of her own body… Nothing happened. The ships wouldn't respond to her frantic commands, she wasn't even able to change her perspective to look one way or another. Still, what she could see told the story plainly enough.

The battle was still going. She'd fallen asleep in the middle of a battle, a battle where she'd been the axle from which Ender's entire plan had spun. She'd fallen asleep, and now only two of her fighters remained. She could see they were being commanded brilliantly by someone else, but right now all that brilliance was required to avoid the buggers who'd rushed in with ruthless swiftness to capitalize on her mistake, her weakness, her failure.

Petra's stomach contracted, Dink had the waste bin ready. There wasn't much to catch, Petra hadn't had much of an appetite lately and she'd barely eaten anything the past two meals. Still, even after everything was gone her body convulsed with dry heaves, twice, three times, and then one final spasm. When she stilled Dink tried to wipe her face with a cloth, but she didn't let him. She ignored the snot and bile on her face. She lifted her head to talk to Ender, to tell him she was sorry, to make him understand, but the indicator light remained dim. She was cut off. Of course, Ender still had a battle to fight, a battle that he had no hope of winning now. She had been the hinge pin of the entire strategy. She knew it as well as anyone, better than anyone except perhaps Ender and Alai. Her weakness had cost Ender the battle, and now he'd have to go on to fight the buggers alone, without her beside him. She wanted to throw up again, but she couldn't.

Dink spoke softly into a communicator and a moment later her consol lit up once more. She only had observational control, but she flipped from perspective to perspective. She saw that Crazy Tom had taken control of her survivors. He was weaving desperately amongst the enemy ships, somehow avoiding the full onslaught of the enemy. No, he wasn't just avoiding them, it was something more, something difficult to tell, for the most part Tom was flying for his life, but he kept making subtle movements, zigging when Petra expected him to zag.

The display blurred suddenly. Angrily Petra swiped away her tears that obscured her vision, desperate to see the display. She stared fascinated, and then she saw it. She thought that Crazy Tom could see it too, but it was hard to tell. Still, the fact remained that it was happening. The Buggers were doing the impossible, they were making a mistake. Her failure had been so complete and so rare that the buggers hadn't know what to do at first. They had hesitated too long, fearing a trap, and once they'd realized no trap was possible they'd charged too eagerly, flying in too fast to finish off Petra's two remaining ships, forgetting for once to keep their all important spacing. They were converging! And Crazy Tom was keeping them so busy trying to bring down the two remaining fighters that they still hadn't realized their own error.

Petra's fingers made minuscule movements, so quickly they seemed not to move at all. She flipped from perspective to perspective, watching Bean's small strike force splitting in two and sending half his fighters flying into the breach she'd left somehow managing two separate teams at the same time, each keeping a much larger bugger force busy, accomplishing much the same thingas Crazy Tom. She flipped again and saw Alai bringing in the big carriers, their little doctors shifting from target to target as the big ships bulled into the enemy fleet. The Bugger fighters tore into the big battleships, scoring more and more hits but Alai was able to push the lines back, pressing the buggers closer together. She flipped again just in time to watch Fly Molo slash in with his squadron, hitting the buggers simultaneously in three spots. At first it looked like three normal explosions, three small bugger ships flashing bright as their molecules came unglued, separating into their component elements. Petra knew though. The three fields had converged, invisibly, and accelerated, like a giant balloon expanding at .8 times the speed of light. Dozens, hundreds of ships were caught in almost the same instant. The invisible field caught more and more bugger ships, turning them into yet more blinding flashes of white as the field fed on the mass, growing stronger and stronger with each new ship it enveloped.

by the time the field died down, nearly three quarters of the bugger ships had turned to big flying chunks of space mud as the field faded and individual atoms began finding new molecular bonds. The fleet had become a ragged asteroid field and some of the bugger ships who'd avoided the field were caught in it, exploding as they impacted with what had once been their allies. Immediately Shen and Crazy Tom both turned back and plunged their fighters into the remaining enemy fleets. The buggers went from having the overwhelming tactical advantage to a crippling disadvantage with one blast.

The remaining buggers fought intelligently, responding instantaneously to their new situation without any signs of dismay or dispair. Crazy Tom's and Shen's squadrons were both trapped and destroyed, but not till they'd ripped the insides of the bugger formations to shreds. Fly Molo's group, who were still almost completely intact, surrounded and finished off every last bugger ship.

Petra was sobbing when she saw her communication lights blink back to life. She grabbed for the microphone, babbling, "Tell Ender I'm sorry, I was just so tired. I couldn't think, tell him I'm sorry…" She kept on babbling. She couldn't shut up, and to make it worse she was sobbing. Everything in her fought to hold back the tears, she knew she should stop talking, but it was as if she didn't have any control over herself. Finally Dink came to her, knelt in front of her, removed her headset, and gently wiped away her dripping tears and snot with a damp cloth. Petra kept talking. She knew it was a reaction to the adrenaline, but she couldn't shut up. "What if that had been the real thing Dink? What if those had been real ships? Real buggers? What if I'd fallen asleep and men had died? What if…

Dink put his hand over her mouth, gently. He didn't say anything. He helped her stand, then he pulled her close. It was too much. Petra sobbed like a baby. She hated her tears but she couldn't stop them. She sobbed like the little girl she'd always had to pretended she wasn't. It was as if all the tears she'd hoarded up over all those years in the battle school had been hiding behind her eyes and now they were determined to see the light of day. She sobbed, and choked, crying her exhaustion and frustration and fear and embarrassment into Dink's formerly immaculate uniform.

Author's Note: Wow, both the prologue and now the first chapter ended with girls crying. I think I'm probably just a bad person at heart. Anyway, let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 2

"I don't think I can say this any more plainly, I'm an observer only. The moment Mazer took over Ender's training, I got relegated to the cheerleading section of the war. I have no command authority till the court martial is complete one way or the other. Everyone still has to salute me, but technically I can't even order anyone to get me a sandwich."

"A fact which is no doubt the main reason for your recent weight loss, I do sympathize, but don't pretend you have no influence. The entire reason you're here now rather than in front of the court martial is because of your expertise and experience with these children."

"You're the one who's been playing voyeur with those 'children,' I still feel it was unnecessary for me to see the vids. I feel unclean"

"That's hardly fair. You've made an art form of spying on little children. How many hidden camera's are there throughout the battle school Colonel? How many in the bathrooms alone?"

"I'm just glad my kids were usually long gone before puberty really set in."

"And you dump them on me right as the hormones hit. Trust me, I've seen enough dominance fucking to make me want to become a monk. We stop the worst of it, the gang-rapes, but we have to let a lot of it go to maintain the illusion that there are unmonitored areas. Some of those boys are never the same, and I don't want to tell you what's happened to some of the girls that make it here."

"Please don't, I already feel queasy enough. Those were my kids before they were yours. It's never easy hearing about your children like that."

"I quite agree, but that's beside the point. The point is that now two of the commanders are hopelessly compromised and should be removed before they become an object of distraction. Petra's breakdown was bad enough, but she's already pulling one of the most gifted children down with her."

"First off, she's hardly pulling him down, his response times have improved measureably since then."

"It will become a distraction…"

"And secondly, Ender can't afford to lose anyone. He already feels responsible for Petra, and that's only adding to the stress of the situation. He's already under more pressure than any person, even a genius, should be able to bear. So far he's handling it, but the cracks are already beginning to show. If…"

"Cracks?"

"Don't be obtuse Admiral, anyone who wasn't showing some signs of breakdown in his situation would be more bugger than human. Your men were the ones who noticed the philotic fluctuations during his REM cycles. Despite whatever is messing with his sleep he's still performing at ever improving levels. Even after all these battles he's still innovating, still coming up with new and effective ideas. However, if we start taking away his pillars of support he won't be able to take it. They are the reason he's enduring this. If he thinks we're playing yet another our games with him, he'll rebel."

"And what if it does become a problem? I've seen enough of these thingshere to know that more of them end badly than not. Usually it's very sudden and very violent."

"I know Dink Meeker admiral, The only ones who need to fear his violence are the buggers, and Petra's too ashamed from her recent incident to do anything in public. They've found a little comfort with eachother in this cold little hell, I see no reason to take that from them, nor them from this group."

"And if it negatively affects their performance?"

"Petra's already been effectively sidelined. I think she'll be back to nearly full effectiveness before the final battle, but Ender won't risk hurting her a second time. More's the pity, we need her, but it's no use trying to try to influence him. The state he's in, any suggestion from us could be disastrous."

"I know, I've sat in on as many of the battles as I could. I'm on edge just from watching, knowing they don't understand the severity, the impossibility of our situation.

It would be very bad if they did, that's the whole point. They can't know it's all real or they won't perform as well. The extra stress and guilt would make them hesitate. I can't believe some of the saves he's pulled."

"Dink won't be too distracted either. He never holds the most critical role like Petra did. Even if he falls completely to pieces sometime they'd probably be able to recover, but he won't fall to pieces. Some of the others will break, but not him, Ender's being too careful now."

"Alright, if that's your assessment, we'll leave it as is. We'll need to make sure she gets the proper medications, should we put it in her food, or give it to her as a shot under the guise of a booster?

Food would probably be best, she's too smart to fall for a 'booster shot' routine, though there's hardly any need in the first place. She hasn't even begun to menstruate yet.

"You're kidding! she's nearly fourteen already."

"It's the stress."

"Most of the girls here have normal functions, and even for the normal student's, our training isn't exactly a picnic."

"It's different at the Battle School. The game training rivals most Olympic regimens physically, and they don't have anything like the mental challenges we put our kids through. It's usually a release of stress when they go to Tactical school or Pre-Command. Typically they have a couple years to normalize before they ever get here. that's what triggers the pubescent change. Petra has simply traded the physical stress there for a vastly increased mental stress here. It's kept her in survival mode."

"An interesting bit of trivia, but I'll start the regimen just in case."

"As you wish."

"Please talk to Mazer about this pace. Some of these outposts might be allowed to wait till after…"

"you're preaching to the choir Admiral, but I wasn't being facetious. Mazer listens to me about as much as I ever listened to anyone else. It's strange not being the one making the decisions anymore. I sympathize a lot more with my detractors."

"Does this mean you'll be entering a guilty plea after all?"

"Of course not, I was right, and honestly I think Mazer's right too but it's harder to live with that when you're not the one in control.

"I've spent my whole life preparing for the third invasion, it's strange to think that it'll all be over within a few weeks."

"God help us. One way or another, it will."

"You're not going religious on me are you Colonel?"

"Never hurts."

"Tell that to Saladin."

"This Crusade is slightly different."

"A bit. Still, I'm almost afraid to end the Bugger menace."

"It would be fitting wouldn't it? Have Ender nearly kill himself to save the human race only to blow ourselves up immediately after?"

"I can't believe that, there are cooler heads out there, The Hegemon, Clausewitz, and that debater on the nets, what's his name, starts with an "L" no one knows who he really is...?"

"Locke, yes. I would be careful to whom I gave my trust if I were you. There's more to him than compassion, understanding, and good rhetoric."

"That's certainly ominous, but then you've always liked being creepy. Either way it's time for you to leave, I have a bureaucracy to run."

"Yes, and I have a sandwich to not order."

"I'll have one brought to you, with mayonnaise and potato chips, extra greasy."

"That's very kind of you."

Petra hesitated before leaving, pausing to glance back over her shoulder. Dink was still asleep, still recovering from yesterday's marathon battle. It was so strange looking at him like this, so strange waking up with his arm draped over her, so very very strange.

Petra thought back to that first night and wondered again just how the hell it had come about. When had their easy friendship become something more. Love? Could it be love? Petra had no idea, she had no frame of reference. In a place like the battleschool, friendship was defined by battle. Love was worse than useless. Had she denied it before? Was she in love now? Petra honestly couldn't say.

Dink had always been special, since the first time they'd met, he'd treated her as a peer, as an equal. He hadn't had to, he had a lot of reasons not too. When she'd first arrived at the battleschool she'd been the only girl in her entire launch. She'd been terrified, and it hadn't taken long for every boy with any of the bullies heart to single her out as the target of choice. Those first months had been hell. She'd never been afraid of boys before, but here everyone was smart, everyone was strong, and above all everyone wanted control, wanted to dominate. She'd always been a tomboy growing up, but when she got to the battleschool she'd soon realized she was out of her depth.

Dink had been older, but unlike the rest of the soldiers he still payed attention to a little launchies. He saw her get picked on, beat up, even pissed on by the older boys, but he didn't intervene. Instead, he came to her when she was alone, when she thought no one was around to see her cry, when she thought no one could hear her call quietly for her mom. By the time she'd noticed him he'd been right beside her, staring down at her from his lofty four foot five, his gaze cold and steady. He didn't say much, he just asked her if she was going to let them win. She hadn't been able to answer, too embarrassed that he'd caught her crying and too shocked that an older boy, a soldier had actually spoken to her. She'd never talked to anyone but the other launchies, the older boys were to be avoided, to be feared. He didn't give her any pep talk, no pandering to her self esteem, only that one question, and the calm assessment of those eyes.

The next time the older boys ganged up on her she fought like a wildcat, punching, twisting, scratching, and biting. They beat her, and badly, but no one left unscathed. She carried her new aggression into the battleroom, no one wanted to practice with a girl, so she focused on becoming a pure offensive force, practicing and practicing till she could outshoot any of the boys. In their little exercises she'd scream like a banshee, launching herself in wild Kamikaze attacks, usually taking out three or four of the boys before they could finally freeze her. It got to the point that whenever a launchie showed up with a bandage they'd joke that Petra'd gotten out of her cage again. She never made any friends among the other launchies, but the ones who'd ganged up on her were soon the butt of many jokes, picking on wild animals, ganging up on a girl, the usual. She was always alone, but sometimes, just sometimes, she'd turn around to see Dink, watching her with those calculating eyes.

She toned down the hysterics after she got assigned to an army. She was usually given the scut work, assignments that no one really wanted, assignments that got you frozen stupidly. She did them, and approached them as challenges. She was always at the worst angles, so she worked on her marksmanship till she could keep the beam focused on a two centimeter moving ball for a full second from across the battleroom.

Petra had liked being a soldier. She was still treated as second rate because she didn't have testicles, but nobody tried to make her drink their piss anymore. She got crappy assignments, but she did them well and was even receiving grudging approval from her toon and army commanders. She had fast become the most lethal gunhand in the army, and was bucking to be the most accurate soldier in the school. Also, she never had to eat alone anymore. As soon as she'd been promoted, Dink had made a point sit across from her. He didn't say much to her that first meal, nothing more than was barely acceptable politeness amongst the super competitive boys, but it was more than anyone else had ever said to her at meals. The other soldiers, seeing one of the all time best soldiers and toon leaders sitting with Petra, started treating her as they would any other soldier. They were all still rivals, but the jokes about her privates had the tone of humor, not malice.

As months, and then years passed, Dink and Petra spent more and more of their free time together. They were both isolated by their temperaments, but in the other they'd each found a kindred spirit. In a school where most relationships were defined as teammate or enemy, they both finally found what it was like to have a friend. Their conversations usually consisted of Petra insulting people, including Dink, while Dink listened with that little half smile of his, a knowing look on his face. Or they would debate the merits and weaknesses of various strategies, commanders, formations, etc. He had been her mentor, teaching her many of his secrets, including the most important one, that the Teachers were the true enemy, not the other students.

When she first met Ender, she found herself hoping that he might become her friend in the same way she had become Dink's. When the tiny boy had joined her army, Petra saw him facing the same derision and scorn she had. She had reached out to him, showed him the ropes, given him the respect Dink had given her. She would never have admitted it, even to Dink, but at the time she'd been hoping she might have found a new friend in the clever little boy who'd been promoted so early.

Of course wherever Ender was concerned, nothing ever worked out as planned, unless it was his plan. Ender had blossomed almost immediately, quickly surpassing her ability to teach. Still, she had seen that his intelligence could eventually get him killed by earning him the envy of the other soldiers, and especially Bonzo, so she'd talked to Dink, explained the kid's potential, showed her friend the practice sessions he held with the launchies, and asked him to get Ender transferred. Neither of them could believe, this little kid, not even really old enough to be a soldier, was showing both of them ways to fight that no one had ever thought of before. They, before anyone else, had realized this little child would someday be the best of them all. Petra and Dink had always felt the calm assurance of knowing they were the best, that on any given day they could take on any other soldier in the school in any task, and most likely win, but to Ender, they were just stepping stones. It had made them angry, but mostly it had simply left them in awe.

Neither of them had been surprised when they were chosen as part of the elite group taken to Command School only a few months after Ender. They were working harder than ever, but they were also spending more time together within the group. Although the Jeesh certainly was now closer than any army to which any of them had ever belonged, at first it had been awkward. Most of the Jeesh had belonged to Ender's former Dragon Army. They were all the best kinds of soldiers and people, but they had a shared experience of which people like Shen, Alai, Dink, and Petra could never truly be a part. Perhaps it might have been then, in those days where she had spent almost every free moment with Dink. Perhaps she had fallen in love with him then... if this was love...

As the training intensified, as they all lost sleep, as they all felt the pressure building close to the limits of their endurance, Dink had been there. Perhaps it was then, watching him try to take care of her even as she mocked him mercilessly for being a nursemaid. Perhaps that was when... If...

All she really knew for sure was that in that moment, when he'd helped her, sobbing, into bed after her complete and utter failure, in that moment of dispair as she realized she'd never be trusted with a real force, that she'd finally confirmed everyone's suspicions, that she'd finally confirmed that she, among all the overstressed, sleep deprived geniuses, she had broken first. All her bravado, all her confidence, all her years of enduring, of striving, of trying to prove that she wasn't just as good as the rest, but that she was better, all of it had been for absolutely nothing. She had known she was finished.

Dink hadn't said a word as he helped her into bed. When he'd turned to leave her, she'd grabbed at his sleeve. She didn't know why she held him exactly, all she knew was that if he left, if he walked out that door, she wouldn't be able to take it. She just hadn't wanted to be alone.

The rest of the night was a blur, she could barely remember any of it. Her brain hadn't been in control. She had been half dead from sleep deprivation anyway, but traces of it remained. The feel of her hands running through Dink's hair, the smell of his skin, the sound of a voice, she wasn't sure who's; those things she remembered... that and the certain knowledge that she was done, that this time she'd be shipped planetside for sure.

A day had passed, Dink had returned, but the expected call to leave never came. Another day, another night with Dink, still no command to report to a shuttle. Third day, orders came through, but not to leave. She was returned to service. It had been a retardedly simple role, one she would have been scandalized to receive before, now she performed the moronically easy task and returned to her room, to Dink, to safety.

And life had gone on...

Petra commanded her ships mechanically, performing the mop-up operation by rote as the battle played over and over through her mind. It had been grisly, a horribly costly Pyrrhic victory but there had never really been any great doubt about what the final outcome would be. The Bugger's had seemed to know this, and had maneuvered not to achieve victory, but to force the battle drag out as long as possible.

Ender had decided to have Bean and Alai rest today. Since her breakdown, he'd taken care to make sure none of the commanders fought too often, made sure they stayed fresh. Although Petra had participated, Ender had given her what was effectively a side role in the battle, no hard decisions to make, simply harass the flanks and wait in reserve in case something went wrong.

In the absence of Alai and Bean, it had fallen to Hot Soup to command the pivotal force of the battle. He'd done it well, and executed Ender's plan to the letter, but from her vantage point, Petra had seen no fewer than three openings when the Buggers had made small mistakes, opening themselves up to counterattack, openings that Alai or Bean or Dink would have seen and used to finish the battle sooner, finish with fewer casualties. Petra wondered if she would have been able to take advantage of those opportunities had she been in Hot Soup's place. She couldn't say, and because she didn't know her own capabilities, she knew the only role she was fit to play were the placeholder positions, operations the computer might have been able to handle. Being uncertain would lead to hesitation, and in battle any hesitation meant disaster.

When the last bugger ship was destroyed the giant holographic display powered down and went dark, and Petra leaned back and closed her eyes. She hadn't been able to believe it when she'd gone a day, then two days, then a week without being sent away, or at least separated from the rest of the Jeesh. She'd been even more astounded when she'd received the call to report for battle. A couple weeks before she would have been insulted by the simplistic orders and unimportant role she was given, but at the time, Petra had still been terrified to assume command of any force at all.

She'd finished that first battle, performing her unimportant role adequately, and the next day had been called back. She didn't fight in every battle anymore, and Ender went out of his way to praise her mediocre accomplishments after battles or during the few practices they held anymore, but Petra knew she never did anything noteworthy anymore.

These days, practically all the time she wasn't actively in practice or in battle she was with Dink. None of the others said anything but they couldn't help but know. Crazy Tom had even tried to make a joke about it when he had thought Petra couldn't hear. He'd told Dink it wasn't fair of him to hog the only pussy on the whole goddamned rock. Dink hadn't said anything, just looked at him with that calm, intense stare that communicated more than any words could. It was little Bean who'd responded, by punching Tom in the face, hard. Bean was too small to inflict any real damage, but Crazy Tom had staggered back, then in a most uncharacteristic moment he'd actually apologized to Dink. Petra had feigned concern and asked what the punch was about. Tom had been about to respond, but Bean had interrupted saying Tom had made a crack about his height. Petra had pretended to be fooled and scolded Bean, telling him he was taking the Napoleon complex a bit far. After that, the matter was never discussed.

Petra made her way down the corridor and met up with the others as they came out of their respective simulator rooms. There weren't a whole lot of smiles or cheering today. Everyone knew that had been an ugly win. They all felt down about the performance, but there wasn't much any of them could have done about it. It was just getting harder, all the time, and now every soldier who broke down meant the rest of the soldiers had to take up their load as well as their own. They all knew. None of them could take much more of this.

Still, when Chen came running out of his room naked, screaming and covered with soap while Bean came flopping madly after him wearing a bugger suit a good three sizes too large for his tiny, still childlike, body, they all burst out laughing... and kept on laughing... and couldn't stop laughing. Petra could have kissed Bean and Chen both at that moment. They were as tired and irritable as the rest of the Jeesh, but they went to all that effort preparing that stupid, over-sized, patchwork bugger suit to remind them that everything was still a game. A deadly serious game of course, preparation for what might possibly be mankind's final war, but a game nonetheless. The only thing that had been lost back there had been billions of trillions of ones and zeros in a computer program. Petra felt herself smile, and realized it was the first unforced smile she'd had since before the battle where she'd fallen asleep.

The laughter didn't seem to want to stop, coming and going in fits and starts, first one boy, then another, then several at once. Soon they were all laughing again, hysterically this time, for absolutely no other reason except they were laughing at the way everyone else laughed. It didn't make sense, and that made it all the funnier. Two dozen of the smartest children on the face of the globe, and they were all cracking up over absolutely nothing. The illogic was deliciously funny. For just a moment, they were able to forget that the Fate of humankind itself rested on their tiny shoulders.

Neski showed no outward display of emotion, but inwardly he desperately wanted to hit something. It was one of the immutable laws of nature, gravity pulls things down, all living creatures eventually die, and Russian Politicians never EVER learn from history. Here they had the two most brilliant minds they'd managed to hide from the IF's prying eyes, who had spent their entire lives studying the strategy, tactics, history, and sociology of land war, who had mastered every test the lesser minds in the bureaucracy could think to throw at them, who had been proven well over 85 accurate in their political predictions over the last four years and seven months with that 15 mostly the result of the higher ups demanding an answer months before a prediction could even remotely be useful or accurate, and who were now saying that the Russians should wait to strike for at least a month after the Bugger war was over, and what do the Politician's do with the assessment? Ignore it completely.

It was frustrating enough that the commanders were ignoring Anna and Sofia's predictions entirely, Neski had even heard one of the Admirals calling the document "children's scribblings," but the fact was you didn't even need to have the twin's frightening intellects to see the blatantly obvious wisdom of their recommendation! The Politburo had been too obvious with their troop movements, and the supposedly secret plan was no secret at all. The Americans were screaming about it, insisting the government prepare to assist the Euro-Arabian coalition in repelling the impending invasion. The Chinese had even moved the majority of their southern defense force up to the northern border, indicating that they'd reached some form of quiet agreement with India in the interim. The Russians still held the strategic advantage technically, but it was far less than the initial plan had called for, and that advantage would shrink even further as soon as India and the other neutral nations joined the fray. Despite their preparations, Russia simply couldn't expect to go up against a world united against them and win.

As if this wasn't enough, rebellions had broken out in both Georgia and Turkey. Right now they were only minor inconveniences, but once the armies were engaged, those fires could easily flare out of control, destroying Russia's fighting potential from within. Not to mention the dozens of other revolutionaries and warlords within the Second Warsaw Pact just waiting for their opportunity to carve a piece out of the Motherland's breast. Only a complete fool would continue to bull forward with the plan at this stage, which of course was exactly what the High Command had decided to do. Not only that, but they had decided to keep the twins out of the official command structure. Of course, why else would you spend a vast fortune crafting the two most finely honed military commanders on the planet except to keep them where they couldn't see, and only authorize them to make suggestions which would either be butchered both by a lack of intelligence and by the commander's incompetence, or ignored entirely.

Neski allowed his fists to clench at his side, controlling his breathing until the fit passed. The decision was made, there was nothing he could do about it. Still, there was work to be done. Once the High Command had done a thorough job of losing the war, then they finally might just call the twins to the fore, so they could have someone on whom to place all the blame for the defeat. When he was sure he was completely in control once more, he took a deep breath and entered the room.

In less than a second he was nearly knocked over by Anna's flying form. As Neski fought to retain his balance, he again wondered what he should call this maneuver that was to a hug as a meteor strike was to Newton's falling apple. Her arms and legs were both locked around his torso while her own body was pressed firmly into his left side as she squeezed with all her, quite considerable, might. Her weight was still inconsequential, but she made up for that with velocity and vigor. As Neski finally found his center, she dropped away and danced off and Neski caught his first glimpse of the day's ensemble. She was wearing a pink headband, an overlarge sweatshirt with an overly loose neck that looked like it had been both cut and stretched to achieve the effect, a skin tight black lycra body suit that rose high on the hips with cream colored hose beneath that ran into thick socks bunched artfully to the middle of the calf and coming back down to cover the back of the dancing shoes on the feet.

"We just watched Flashdance, and she's been working on that outfit ever since." came Sofia's voice to Neski's left. She was dressed simply and practically in athletic pants and a long sleeve tee shirt that didn't quite fully hide the scars on her wrists and hands near the cuff. She looked over at Anna who was now running artfully in place, hands over her head, back arched, knees high, toes pointing gracefully with each quick stride. Her expression half seemed exasperated, and half seemed to be considering running over to join in. "They're going ahead with the attack aren't they?" she said, never taking her eyes from her sister, who was now performing hip thrusts from a chair. Neski just nodded, also watching Anna dance, trying to remember the last time he ever felt that purely, and unadulteratedly happy, and failing.

Anna turned to him and gently pushed a stray lock of hair back behind his ear. "It was nothing more than we expected, don't look so gloomy." She said with a strange little smile on her face. "When they call us, we'll be ready."

At this, Anna, who was too far away to have heard even a word of the quiet conversation yelled out, "If they ever call us that is. I still think they'll go down in flames before letting a couple of barely teenage girls boss them around."

Sofia just smiled and shrugged while Anna kept on dancing. Neski knew they spoke aloud only for his sake. For years now they'd had full control over their philotic link, full connection regardless of distance or physical obstacles. Like Siamese twins of the mind, they were always together, reaching into the other's thoughts as naturally as their own. Their communication was blindingly fast, and far more complete than any spoken words could ever be. Neski sometimes wished he'd had the same connection with his own ex-wife. He half thought that if she'd been able to see just how much he'd really loved her she might have stayed, and sometimes he thought that knowing exactly what he was thinking at all times would have driven her away all the sooner. Still, it had driven the girls together, not apart, and for that Neski was infinitely grateful, for they could very well be the last remaining hope for his country's success.

Each girl had been brilliant alone, together they caught each other's flawed logic, sharpened each other's wit and reflexes, and shared all knowledge so one girl learned anything, it was instantly available to the other. Together they'd learned Eighteen languages, though all official communication was of course conducted in Standard, they'd learned enough practical science and engineering to construct their own Ecstatic Shield, a miniature of the one that surrounded the facility, which in itself was a miniature of the giant dome of energy that stretched into the stratosphere ready to activate at a moment's notice and ward off any ICBM's or gravitational impact weapons from the old weapons satellites still in orbit from the days when wars were fought from space and entire cities were wiped off the face of the earth in a matter of seconds. They had read more than seven thousand books together, ranging from every tretise on military strategy and tactics dating from the time of the Greeks, to Harry Potter and Vampire Novels. The sheer volume of knowledge that could be stored by two minds working in tandem was vastly greater than the sum of what they could have learned separately.

Neski broke from his reverie and looked toward the Simulator. Anna immediately groaned. Sofia laughed and made her way to her chair while Anna stalled only long enough to stand to attention and raise her hand straight out in front of her in the classic Nazi salute "Yes heir Neski!" she said woodenly, then goose stepped all the way to her seat. They spent the next five hours plotting out new strategies and tactics for the troops at the borders, and other methods of manipulating the global political will to keep the world from fully uniting after the stupid, predictable blitzkrieg. Neski meanwhile spent those hours compiling each new warplan in the official recommendation format so that they each could be officially ignored with all the right bureaucratic stamps and seals in place.

When they were done, he allowed himself to be talked into watching Flashdance. Anna translated since he wasn't fully fluent in the English from which standard basic had been sprung so many years before. Still, despite his usual dislike of old movies and the knowledge of the impending disastrous invasion plans, he ended up having a wonderful time. He left them asleep, nestled together, Anna's head on Sofia's breast, perfectly content in the knowledge that the other was happy. As he left, Neski found himself tending to envy the two more than pity them. It had to be good, to know, to really know that someone loved you more than life itself.


End file.
